He still was comforted to find
That hope at last remain'd behind:
So Strephon, lifting up the lid,
To view what in the chest was hid,
The
flew from out the vent;
vapours
But Strephon, cautious, never meant
The bottom of the pan to grope,
And foul his hands in search of hope.
O! ne'er may such a vile machine
Be once in Cælia's chamber seen!
O!
O may she better learn to keep
Those "secrets of the hoary deep."*
As mutton-cutlets, prime of meat,
Which, though with art, you salt and beat,
As laws of cookery require,
And roast them at the clearest fire;
If from adown the hopeful chops
The fat upon the cinder drops,
To stinking smoke it turns the flame,
Poisoning the flesh from whence it came,
And up exhales a greasy stench,
For which you curse the careless wench:
So things which must not be exprest,
When plump'd into the reeking chest,
Send up an excremental smell
To taint the parts from whence they fell;
The petticoats and gown perfume,
And waft a stink round every room.
Thus finishing his grand survey,
Disgusted Strephon stole away;
Repeating in his amorous fits,
"Oh! Cælia, Calia, Cælia sh- !"
But Vengeance, goddess never sleeping,
Soon punish'd Strephon for his peeping:
His foul imagination links
Each dame he sees with all her stinks;
And, if unsavoury odours fly,
Conceives a lady standing by.
All women his description fits,
And both ideas jump like wits;
By vicious fancy coupled fast,
And still appearing in contrast,
I pity wretched Strephon, blind To all the charms of woman kind. Should I the Queen of Love refuse, Because she rose from stinking ooze? To him that looks behind the scene, Statira's but some pocky quean. When Cælia all her glory shows, If Strephon would but stop his nose, (Who now so impiously blasphemes Her ointments, daubs, and paints, and creams, Her washes, slops, and every clout, With which he makes so foul a rout ;) He soon will learn to think like me, And bless his ravish'd eyes to see Such order from confusion sprung, Such gaudy tulips rais'd from dung,
THE POWER OF TIME. 1730.
IF neither brass nor marble can withstand
The mortal force of Time's destructive hand;
If mountains sink to vales, if cities die,
And lessening rivers mourn their fountains dry;
When my old cassock (said a Welsh divine)
İs out at elbows; why should I repine?
ON MR. PULTENEY'S BEING PUT OUT
OF THE COUNCIL. 1731.
SIR Robert, weary'd by Will Pulteney's teazings,
Who interrupted him in all his leasings,
Resolv'd that Will and he should meet no more,
Full in his face Bob shuts the council-door;
Nor lets him sit as justice on the bench,
To punish thieves, or lash a suburb-wench.
Yet still St. Stephen's chapel open lies
For Will to enter-What shall I advise?
Ev'n quit the HOUSE, for thou too long hast sat in't,
Produce at last thy dormant ducal patent;
There, near thy master's throne in shelter plac'd,
Let Will unheard by thee his thunder waste.
Yet still Ifear your work is done but half:
For, while he keeps his pen, you are not safe.
Hear an old fable, and a dull one too;
It bears a moral, when apply'd to you.
A hare had long escap'd pursuing hounds
By often shifting into distant grounds;
Till, finding all his artifices vain,
To save his life he leap'd into the main.
But there, alas! he could no safety find,
A pack of dogfish had him in the wind,
He scours away; and, to avoid the foe,
Descends for shelter to the shades below:
There Cerberus lay watching in his den,
(He had not seen a hare the Lord knows when)
Out bounc'd the mastiff of the triple head;
Away the hare with double swiftness fled;
Hunted from earth, and sea, and Hell, he flies
(Fear lent him wings) for safety to the skies.
How was the fearful animal distrest!
Behold a foe more fierce than all the rest:
Sirius, the swiftest of the heavenly pack,
Fail'd but an inch to seize him by the back.
He fled to earth, but first it cost him dear;
He left his scut behind, and half an ear.
Thus was the hare pursu'd, though free from
guilt;
Thus, Bob, shalt thou be maul'd, fly where thou wilt.
Then, honest Robin, of thy corpse beware;
Thou art not half so nimble as a hare :
Too ponderous is thy bulk to mount the sky:
Nor can you go to Hell before you
So keen thy hunters, and thy scent so strong,
Thy turns and doublings cannot save thee long.
* This hunting ended in the promotion of Will and Bob. Bob was no longer first minister, but earl of Orford; and Will was no longer his opponent, but earl of Bath, H.
ON FREDERICK DUKE OF SCHOMBERG.*
Hic infra situm est corpus FREDERICI DUCIS DE SCHOMBERG. ad BUDINDAM occisi, A. D. 1690. DECANUS et CAPITULUM maximopere etiam atque etiam petierunt,
UT HÆREDES DUCIS monumentum In memoriam PARENTIS erigendum curarent: Sed postquam per epistolas, per amicos, diu ac sæpè orando nil profecêre ; Hunc demum lapidem ipsi statuerunt, + Saltem ut scias, hospes,
Ubinam terrarum SCON BERGENSIS cineres delitescunt.
"Plus potuit fama virtutis apud alienos,
Quam sanguinis proximitas apud suos.'
A. D. 1731.
* The duke was unhappily killed, in crossing the river Boyne, July 1, 1690; and was buried in St. Patrick's cathedral; where the dean and chapter erected a small monument to his honour, at their own expense. N.
The words that Dr. Swift first concluded the epitaph wit were, "Saltem ut sciat viator indignabundus, quali in cellulâ tanti ductoris cineres delitescunt." N.
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